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Author's Chapter Notes:
A/N: Reviews!! Yay!!! I mentioned the part where I love you guys, right? This chap has some angst, cuz I can’t write a story without any =D
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She was kissing Spike. In her driveway. Again.

And yes, part of her was screaming at the other part, What the hell are you doing??!!! It tended to do that a lot lately.

But the thing was that she’d been right. The friends thing really, really wasn’t working. And she had to do something, and the something definitely couldn’t be to just stop talking to him, because now that they’d started talking she sort of liked it. So the obvious solution was to try being…more than friends.

At least he wasn’t protesting; he was very definitely going along with the kissing thing. As soon as her lips had touched his, he’d pulled her forward, luckily having the foresight to unbuckle her seatbelt, and into his lap. One of his hands came around to cup the back of her head; the other went to her waist, pulling her more firmly against him. She smiled against the kiss and curled her fingers around the back of his neck, burying her fingers in the soft curls she found there. She could feel him poking her bottom; when she wriggled on top of him, he gasped.

“Buffy, what the hell—“

She silenced him for a few minutes, kissing him hard, opening her mouth and letting him explore it. When she was pretty sure he’d been distracted she whispered, “It’s all the driveway’s fault.”

He broke the kiss and raised his eyebrows inquisitively—but his expression lacked its normal sarcasm. He looked pretty flustered, actually. “The driveway, luv.”

Oooh, he was calling her luv. She melted a little bit more and tried hard to form a sentence. Her lips wouldn’t cooperate. Apparently, she was kind of flustered, too. “The driveway—every time we kiss, it’s in the driveway.”

“We’ve only kissed twice,” he pointed out.

“But both times, it’s been in the driveway.” She grinned at him. The ridiculousness of the conversation was helping shut up her inner Cordy, which seemed to be having heart palpitations.

He glanced up at her house. “Your parents home, kitten?”

Was it just her, or was he calling her pet names a lot? “Um, no. They’re both at work.”

He leaned forward and kissed her, a quick, clinging kiss. “Wanna test that whole driveway theory?” He opened the door and got out, cradling her in his arms.

“Huh?” It was a horribly blonde answer, but she was being carried to her door by a really, really hot guy whose hard-on was against her side. Talking was not a priority.

“You said it’s the driveway’s fault. Think we can accomplish the same thing on the couch?”

Spike. Couch. She and Spike on the couch. Buffy squirmed in anticipation. “Yuh-huh,” she said, nodding eagerly. She fumbled for her key and, when they reached the door, handed it to Spike. He jammed it into the lock, entered the house, and slammed the door, not even bothering to remove the key. He made a beeline for the couch and tossed her down before covering her body with his own.

It was insane, and she knew it was insane. But somehow, she just couldn’t stop.

“Wait…Spike…” she managed to get out right before he kissed her. She felt rather heroic for even managing that much, since he was on top of her and all.

He froze. “Yeah, Goldilocks?” His voice trembled a little; he seemed almost as nervous as she was.

“I just thought I’d tell you…” Her hand came up to cup his cheek gently, looking him in the eye. He’d given her a huge confession earlier that day, one that had pretty much wrecked the just-friends idea. He deserved to hear one, too.

“I want this,” she said quietly. “I mean, I have wanted this. I’m not…I can’t say it the way you would, but…when I saw you for the first time, when you stepped on my shoes…I thought you were the hottest guy I’d ever seen. The whole time we were fighting, I just wanted to jump you, right there in front of the whole school. And it really hasn’t stopped at all—the jump-wanting, I mean.” She smiled at him timidly. “Okay?”

Her face was burning up and she was way embarrassed, but the look on his face made up for everything. Awe mixed with gratitude and pure happiness—sort of the way she’d felt when he’d told her he watched her every night. It made her want him that much more.

And when he lowered his head and kissed her, fully and completely, plunging his tongue in and clutching her to him so tight it felt like she belonged to him, she really didn’t mind. In fact, it felt wonderfully, incredibly, indescribably right.

So she arched her back and met his embrace with one of her own. Both their kisses grew harder, more demanding; hands began to skim, hips began to move, and pure sensation took over. Buffy gasped, feeling like she was in heaven—

And the front door slammed open.

Before they could separate, Dawn walked in, saying, “Buffy, you idiot, don’t you know enough not to leave your key in the d---OH MY GOD!” She stood stock still, staring at her disheveled sister.

Buffy and Spike leapt up. Buffy tugged down her dress and said quickly, “Dawnie, wait, I can explain—“

“Dawn? Honey, what’s wrong?” they heard Hank yell. Dawn just stood there, staring at them, as he came nearer.

Buffy’s eyes met Spike’s. To her great satisfaction, he seemed just as annoyed their interruption as she was; of course, he also looked kind of scared. “You wanna go?” she said quickly as Hank neared the front door. Once he got inside, all hell would break loose.

“I don’t wanna leave you with them,” Spike said. “’s my fault, too.”

“If they meet you I’ll never be able to see you. Ever. Dad’ll make with the uber-parenting.”

“So what, it’s better if I leave?” Spike said disbelievingly.

Buffy forced herself to shrug. “If Dad doesn’t see you, he’ll try to pretend you don’t exist.”

“Right. Back door?”

Hank stomped up the steps. “In the kitchen,” Buffy told Spike hurriedly.

“’m gone.” Spike made as if to leave before halting and grabbing Buffy by the shoulders. He kissed her, quick and hard, before promising, “We’ll talk later, yeah?” and dashing for the kitchen. Unfortunately, he wasn’t quite fast enough. Seconds before he was out of sight, Hank caught a very good glimpse of the young man with the messed up hair—and put two and two together.

“Buffy Anne Summers!”

“Dad, it’s not what it sounds like, we were just—“

“Do I even know this guy?”

“It’s Spike Walsh. You know, the one she hates?” Dawn looked really weird, but Buffy couldn’t figure out why.

“Wait…the one you fight with all the time?”

“Um…” Buffy nibbled on her lower lip. Was her sister smiling? “Yeah, but we were just kissing, I swear, and only a little of that, it’s just the driveway is cursed so we figured we’d see if we could kiss in the house, too, or if it was just some weird supernatural concrete vibes or—“

“You little slut.” Hank stared at his daughter almost disbelievingly. “I put up with the clothes, I put up with the bad grades, I put up with the idiocy, but I will not have you fornicating in my house!”

“Wait, Dad,” Dawn protested, “They weren’t screwing, they were just kissing. I saw them. And—“

“You saw them?” Hank repeated, dangerous anger growing in his voice. “Dawn, go to your room.”

Dawn sent Buffy one last—regretful? No way. Definitely smug—look before running up the stairs.

As soon as Dawn’s door closed, Hank turned back to his older daughter. His face was perfectly calm, but his eyes were pure fury. “You little whore,” he said—in a perfectly nice voice, but the words cut like a knife. “So what, do you just part your legs for any dick that comes wandering by?”

“What?” Buffy stared at her father. He’d yelled at her before, but he’d never sounded so incredibly mean. “I’m not a—“

“Oh, please,” Hank snorted in disgust. “Spare me. I know your type. You even dress like a little streetwalker.”

Buffy gripped the strap of her dress. Spike had liked it…she’d thought it was pretty. “But, Daddy…” she began in a voice that sounded way more hurt than she really wanted it to, “I…”

“Shut the hell up and get in your room. You’re grounded.” His eyes narrowed. “For life, as far as I’m concerned. You’re not gonna go around screwing every guy you meet. I’m not payin’ for when you get knocked up, you hear me?”

No. No, she really didn’t. Because all she heard were the horrible accusations, the horrible words, that he was saying. Slut. Whore. Her parents had never been all that nice to her, but those words—what he was saying—it was so horrible. She felt something rise in her ears, until she could barely hear, and eyes that had been almost tearing in happiness awhile ago began to cry in utter desolation. “But—“

He pointed up at the stairs. “Get your ass up there, now,” he snapped. “We’ll talk about your punishments later.”

She still stared at him.

“What, are you stupid? Get the hell up to your room!” This time, he shouted loudly enough that Buffy was broken out of the strange trance she was in.

She forced her feet to move, to carry her up the stairs and into her room. She didn’t even make it to the upstairs hallway before the tears began coming in earnest—by the time she was in her room, she was sobbing. She threw herself down on the bed, curled up, her body shaking with the force of her cries.

Do you just part your legs for any dick that comes wandering by? How could he say that? To her? She knew she wasn’t his favorite daughter, she knew that her whole family hated her, but what he’d said—it went beyond cruelty. Those words coming from her father’s mouth, the pure hatred she’d seen in his eyes, the derision with which he’d regarded her clothing—it broke a heart that had already been hurt so many times by her family.

She should have been happy. She’d begun something with Spike back there. She wasn’t sure what, but something was definitely happening. Now, though—it was just a few minutes later, but it felt like the whole world was falling down around her. She couldn’t think about how happy she was that Spike and she had had a major makeout session. All she could think about was the devastation her father’s words had made her feel.

She was sobbing so loudly that she didn’t hear the knocking at her door for quite some time. By the time she did hear it, whoever was on the other end was pounding rather loudly.

“What the fuck do you want?” she yelled. The hostile words felt funny coming out of her mouth—had she ever said that word in front of her family before?

“Let me in!”

Dawn. Buffy considered just telling her to fuck off—God knows she deserved it. But then she remembered that Dawn had tried to defend her. Not much, and the younger girl had been a complete bitch often enough, but Dawn had tried. Buffy scowled. “This had better be good,” she yelled, and the doorknob turned. When Dawn entered Buffy snapped, “If you don’t have anything to say, I am so gonna pull out your ribcage and wear it as a hat.”

Dawn rolled her eyes. “What-ever,” she snapped. “Listen, I need to talk to you.”

“About what? I thought you were the frickin’ President of the We Hate Buffy Club,” Buffy snapped, putting at much hatefulness into her voice as possible. She couldn’t afford to hope that someone in her family liked her even in the least little bit. It would hurt her.

“Yeah, right.” Dawn crossed her arms and stared at Buffy. “That was Spike Walsh you were kissing, right?”

“Your point?”

“Spike’s, like, a legend at the junior high,” Dawn informed her haughtily.

“O-kay…” Buffy said slowly, waiting for Dawn to get to the point so Buffy could just kick her out already.

“So, he’s pretty smart,” Dawn said. “And I figure, if he likes you, you must be pretty smart, too.”

“Pretty smart of you,” Buffy said sarcastically.

“Yeah.” A pause. “So, um, congratulations. I hope it goes well.”

You could have heard a pin drop. After about a minute passed, Buffy decided she really should talk. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Dawn hesitated. For a moment it looked like she was going to say something else—but instead she just slipped out of the door quietly, leaving Buffy alone again.

Except this time, she didn’t cry. Because a part of her—just a tiny part, but a part all the same—was daring to hope that maybe, just maybe, she had an ally. A friend.

Maybe her whole family didn’t hate her after all.





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